Deep Rough - A Thriller in Augusta

by Blewitt, Chris; Blewitt, Chris

  “Wow,” said Hank.

  “Looked like he barely swung,” answered Archie.

  They stayed to watch the other two men have similar results, each ball landing only yards apart in the middle of the fairway.

  “And think about it: These guys have no shot at wining the tournament.”

  “As long as Walker doesn’t win, I don’t care who does,” replied Hank out of earshot of Craig.

  <><><><><>

  Humphrey sat at his desk in Philadelphia and relived the conversation he had just had with Hank Fredericks in Georgia. Hank had told him that everything would be okay and that he would handle the situation. But did he trust him to handle it? If any word got out about what was taking place, the impact it would have on Coldridge would be disastrous. Humphrey thought that his career would be over if Hank did not follow up on his promise to handle it.

  He leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the desk. He was not sure if he could carry out the other job that Hank had asked him to do, no matter how much money he was offered. Two security guards walked into his office.

  “You wanted to see us, sir?” asked Greg Brewster. He and Steve Stumps had been with the firm for seven years, all of them serving under Humphrey. Most of the time, they were bodyguards for the athletes the firm represented.

  “I have a job for you two. You can say no if you want, but I have to tell you that this job pays very well.”

  The two men exchanged worried glances and listened to their boss outline his plan.

  <><><><><>

  Craig and Hank had barely spoken to each other since arriving on the grounds of Augusta. Ever since that phone call that Hank took in the diner, casual conversation had ceased, and Craig noticed that Hank was more anxious than ever to see Chet Walker on the driving range. They left Archie on the course and promised to meet up with him later. They walked back to the range, stood against the ropes, and watched Walker struggle with his swing. Each ball Walker hit with his irons seemed to be starting right and staying there. Frustrated, Chet put his irons away and pulled out his driver, launching perfect shots down the middle of the range.

  “At least he has that going for him,” Craig said, breaking the silence.

  “He’ll be fine; no one can be perfect every day.”

  “Very strange to have the same tee times each day, huh?” Craig said.

  “Yeah, not sure why they did that, but I like it. I think the players will like it, too. You can get into a rhythm playing the course at the same time each day. Besides, Chet will probably have the late tee times on the weekend, too.”

  “I guess so. Still, guys will be finished before he even tees off. Hope no one fires a low number.”

  “Walker thrives on competition,” Hank responded. “I think he wants them to go low so he has a goal to shoot for.” They watched Walker on the range for another twenty minutes. He was clearly frustrated with his swing so he put the irons away and went to the putting green. “Let’s go to the tent and say our hellos.”

  Great, Craig thought, more socializing. At least there was a chance to see Lori again. They walked through the crowds and found their way to the tent by the ninth green. The first person he saw was big, surly RobertUnderhill.

  “Gentlemen, I was wondering when you two would show up,” Underhill said, extending his hand to both of them. “This is great, huh? We can use this tent and the one by the driving range. Free food and beer all day long.”

  Hank was beaming. “Well, what are we waiting for, two beers then.”

  Craig had no desire to have a beer at this hour, but he didn’t want to feel left out, either. As Robert handed him a Budweiser, he scanned the large tent, looking for Lori. There were at least twenty folding tables spread out on the grass. There was a buffet station set in the corner, and a few older men were filling up their plastic plates with roast beef sandwiches. A bar stood in the center and two bartenders were busy filling the guests’ cups with beer and cocktails.

  As Craig finished his first sip of beer, he noticed Lori out of the corner of his eye talking to a woman that looked to be in her seventies. Lori had on a loose-fitting black and white striped shirt and white shorts. Craig was staring at her tan legs and thought she looked even better than last night.

  “Craig?” Hank said, interrupting his thoughts. “Robert asked you a question.”

  Craig managed a “Huh?” and his face felt flush.

  “I said, who do you think wins this week?” Robert said.

  “Oh, ah, Chet Walker, I guess.” Craig managed to say.

  “Way to go out on a limb, Craig,” Hank said.

  “There’s a surprise,” Robert said. “I guess you have to pick him over anyone else. Kid has more talent than Jack Nicklaus.”

  “Let’s not go that far, Robbie,” Hank replied. “He still has a lot of years left in his career to prove that he is one of the best golfers. He also has to win a major first.”

  “You don’t like Walker, Hank? He’s your client for crying out loud,” exclaimed Robert.

  “I do, yes. He’s just too young for me to get all excited. He’s only, what, twenty-six years old? He has twenty years left of professional golf. If he can keep up this pace or one similar to it, I will give him all the credit in the world. Client or no client, I call it like I see it.”

  Robert looked at him awkwardly and shrugged his shoulders.

  Hank took a long sip of his beer then said, “I doubt he can even win this weekend.”

  Both Craig and Robert turned their heads sideways like dogs hearing a fire engine or a police siren. “You serious, Hank?” asked Robert.

  “Yes, I’m serious. I just think that the competition is getting tougher, the courses are getting longer and tighter, and to be able to win here is very difficult!” Hank was getting slightly irritated.

  Craig turned away and saw that Lori had just finished talking to the older woman. He ordered another beer from the bar and carried it over to her. She was busy writing something in a small notepad when he walked up to her.

  “Care for a beer?” Craig asked.

  She didn’t look up and continued writing. Craig was embarrassed for a few seconds before she finished writing, flipped the book closed and smiled at him. “How’d you know what I wanted?”

  “Just a hunch, I guess.”

  “What are those two arguing about?” Lori pointed to the bar where Hank and Robert continued their heated discussion.

  “Oh, they’re fighting over how great of a player Chet Walker is.”

  “Wonder how much they’ll wager this year. Last year I think Robert said he won two thousand dollars from your boss.”

  “Hank can be stubborn.” He turned back and looked at her before quickly glancing away. She really was beautiful, he thought. “What’s your plan for today?”

  Lori shook her head sideways. “Nothing, really. I’ll either be in this tent or on the course.”

  “Want to walk a few holes?” Craig asked.

  “Yeah, let’s go tell those two.” She nodded in the direction of Hank and Robert, and they both started walking in that direction.

  Robert turned, looked at Lori, and said, “We’re going to eat at the nicest restaurant in town on Sunday night, Lori, all paid by my dear friend, Hank. As long as Walker wins, that is.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Hank replied.

  “Well, good luck,” Lori said. “We’re going out to walk a few holes; be back in about an hour.”

  “You two kids have fun,” Robert said.

  Lori and Craig walked away and headed out of the tent. He felt free of the burden on his mind. Lori was the best company he could ask for. Craig turned back to look at Hank and saw his two brown eyes staring right through him.

  Chapter 11

  The walk from the clubhouse of Augusta National to the driving range was not terribly long; in fact, it was quite beautiful, especially during the spring. All of the trees were in full bloom; the pink and white azaleas had large, colorful petals. T
he crowds were what bothered Red Maitland. He never minded walking the grounds, whether it was to the first tee, the driving range, the putting green, or to the parking lot. Today, he drove a golf cart to the driving range.

  As he arrived, he noticed that there were hardly any players left hitting balls. He had been busy all morning with the tournament and hadn’t had time to himself. He cursed under his breath and made slow circles on the black concrete path that took players to the range. Patrons were walking back and forth from the range, staring at the crazy man making donuts with a golf cart. They would’ve told an official had it not been for the traditional green jacket that he was wearing.

  Red leaned up out of his seat and looked over the heads of the people, towards the putting green. He stopped the cart and stood on the seat to get a better view. There, standing next to his caddy, was the player he was looking for. Red felt relieved and sat back down in the cart very carefully, like he was sitting on a crate of eggs. Stepping on the gas, he headed back towards the clubhouse and finished his work before heading out onto the golf course. He was not going to miss Chet Walker’s round for the world.

  <><><><><>

  The view from the tenth tee box was one of the best on the course due to the more than one hundred feet of elevation. Players love teeing off from elevated tees due to the psychological effect of the ball traveling farther. At 485 yards, the players needed all the length they could get on the demanding par-four. The hole doglegged slightly left then rose towards a green surrounded by large trees. The approach shot was very demanding, and making a par here was a great score.

  Craig and Lori stood near the ropes and watched three players approach the tee box. Neither player looked to be doing very well; the scorekeepers sign all showed numbers in black, meaning their scores were over par.

  “This is such a great hole,” Lori said.

  “Yeah. Wait, I thought you didn’t know much about golf?” Craig asked, puzzled.

  Lori stared at the tee box and put a finger to her lips. The golfers, Jones, Kallassy, and Hunter, were still a few moments away from hitting their tee shots, but Craig took her hint and didn’t ask any more questions.

  Each golfer went through his ritual on the tee, and all used the driver to power through this hole. Craig noticed that each golfer played the shot perfectly, except for Kallassy, who hooked it into the woods. Jones and Hunter started their golf balls down the right-hand side of the fairway and had a little right to left draw back towards the middle. Their balls hit the fairway, caught the downhill slope, then rolled another fifty yards before stopping on the left-hand side, only about 170 yards from the green.

  “I wasn’t completely honest with you, Craig,” Lori said suddenly.

  Most of the crowd surrounding the tenth tee started down the fairway, trailing the three golfers. Craig turned to look her, unsure of what to say.

  She started to giggle like a schoolgirl. “I really have no idea why I lied to you. I always do this around men. Please forgive me.”

  “Well, I will forgive you,” Craig said, “but you still have to tell me what you lied about.”

  “It’s stupid, really.” Lori thought for a moment. “Okay, I do know a lot about golf and about this course.”

  Craig wanted to let her finish, but it seemed that she needed someone to pry more information from her. “How is that?”

  “My uncle,” Lori said. She turned away from him towards the tee to see if anyone else was coming towards them. “He’s a member here.”

  Craig was stunned. “What?” Craig started to ask another question, but she interrupted him.

  “I don’t tell many people, Craig. Most of the time if I do, they ask if they can play the course. All people want is a free round at Augusta and then it’s adios, Lori.” Craig held up his hand in protest, but she continued. “Even though we just met, I trust you, Craig. You seem to enjoy golf but not obsess about it like these other yo-yos I meet.”

  “Well, thanks,” Craig said. He had many questions, and Lori started to answer them without having to be asked.

  “He’s my mom’s brother and he’s been a member for, gosh, I don’t know, forty years or so. We used to come down here as a family in the summer, and my uncle would open the course up for me and my brother. But we didn’t appreciate the course at that age, you know. It was just golf with my uncle. Now,” she looked down the fairway towards the tenth green, “I understand that this is the greatest course man has ever designed.”

  Craig was stunned. “You still play here,” he managed to say.

  “Every year,” she replied. “Shot 92 last year, white tees, too. Yeah, my uncle still spoils us by opening the course for us. He’s pretty high up so no one makes a fuss about it. Speaking of which, you cannot tell anyone about this.”

  Craig held up his hands and said, “I won’t, believe me.”

  Three more golfers were on the tee, about to hit their tee shots. Craig looked at the board and only recognized one name, Pat Hitchens, and he was three under par after nine holes—a very good score. Craig thought that since Lori had been so honest with him, maybe he should be honest with her and tell her what was on his mind. He quickly pushed that thought away, especially with her uncle being a member of Augusta.

  “What’s your uncle’s name?” Craig asked.

  “Red Maitland,” Lori responded.

  <><><><><>

  Hank Fredericks could not contain his joy as he and Archie stood near the fifth green watching Chet Walker. He had waited all year to come to Augusta and watch the tournament. Now, everything was at stake.

  “Your boy is in trouble!” Hank said as the players left the green.

  “He is not; he has sixty-seven holes to go,” Archie responded.

  “Only thirty-one if he doesn’t make the cut,” Hank quickly pointed out.

  “Yeah, that’ll happen,” Archie said sarcastically. “He’s only two over par and he has plenty of golf left today. He can make up those strokes easily.”

  They were walking though the thick trees to the sixth tee box. By the time they arrived, there was no more room to stand, so they walked down the fairway a little to get a better view of Chet. The sixth hole was a par-three, 180 yards and considered an easy hole, except for the green. The pin positions made this green very difficult to attack. Today, the hole was cut directly behind the left-hand bunker with the green sloping from front to back.

  After Chet’s playing partners, Tim Woolite and Ian Goodspeed hit their balls on the green, Chet placed his tee in the ground and took a few practice swings. He seemed to be trying to fix something as his eyes followed the club on his backswing and follow-through. Archie watched his caddy show two fingers to the on-course announcer. Chet was using a seven iron.

  Walker finally hit the ball and it soared into the air towards the sixth green. As Archie and Hank followed the flight of the ball, a loud “No!” could be heard coming from the tee box. They watched the ball finally land off to the right of the green, almost bounding down the slope towards the tall trees. They looked back in time to see Chet lightly tap his golf bag with his club before ripping off his glove and starting down the hill towards his ball.

  “See?” Hank said. “He’s finished.”

  Chapter 12

  The Anheuser-Busch tent certainly provided Hank and Robert ample beverages during the day. They had both been to Augusta before and would watch their share of on-course action, but they were content watching the television from their seats at the bar. This had been the second year of ESPN’s expanded coverage of the Masters. Although ratings were down from years past, the network tried to offer more coverage of the tournament in order to attract more viewers. Thursday and Friday offered four hours of live golf starting at three o’clock, and the weekend rounds had twelve hours combined.

  “Have you two even seen the course today?” Lori asked. Both she and Craig walked back towards the tent for something to eat.

  “I’ve seen this course plenty of times,” Robert respon
ded. He didn’t sound like he’d been drinking all day. A man of his girth could definitely carry his liquor. “We’ll make it out there sometime.”

  “How about you, Craig; enjoying yourself?” Robert asked.

  “Absolutely. This course is phenomenal. I can’t thank you enough, Hank.” It almost made Craig vomit as he thanked his boss.

  “My pleasure, Craig,” Hank said.

  Lori handed a beer to Craig, and the two of them walked towards the buffet line. They each made a roast beef sandwich and sat down at a table to eat. Lori turned to Craig and sensed something was distracting him. “What’s up?”

  Craig was looking at the bar and didn’t realize Lori was talking to him. “Huh?”

  “What’s gotten into you? You seem bothered by something.”

  Craig shrugged his shoulders and said, “Nothing.”

  “Come on, Craig, are you sure?”

  “Yeah, it’s nothing. I’m just thinking about work, I guess.”

  “Craig,” Lori said, “you can’t be thinking about work when you’re miles away from the office at one of the most beautiful golf courses in the world. How long have you dreamed of being at Augusta National for the Masters?”

  “A long time. You’re right, I’ll be okay.” He took a long swallow of his beer and turned to Lori. “Thanks for hanging out with me. The last thing I wanted to do this week was hang out by the bar.” He nodded towards Robert and Hank.

  She laughed. “Well, I’m glad for your company, too. Get Robert near a bar and a drinking buddy, and I’ll have to peel him from that seat in a couple of hours.” She thought for a minute. “How about dinner tonight?”

  Craig seemed surprised by her sudden invitation. “You mean we don’t have another ass-kissing gala to attend tonight?”

  “Well, we do, but I’m sure I can persuade my boss into letting us get away for the evening. I know a great restaurant nearby. So?”